That's how he looked at me. This look hits. Not in the face. In the stomach. Paralyzes. Breath. Am I still breathing?

I take a deep breath with my mouth wide open. I hear clearly this oxygen-hungry "ahhhhh".

It was like being hit in the solar plexus. But the fist was not removed. He straightened his fingers. He stuck them under the ribs. Squeezed. And he drags himself. Wants to vomit with meat.

I moved away, overcoming the pain. I've never felt the pull of gravity like this before. It was lead. Crumbling like a pile of stones. Buried underneath. trampling. Rubbing into the frozen ground. Konstantin Liskovets instantly became...